


New Year's Day

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year of holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemniskate67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemniskate67/gifts).



> birthday fic for the best friend ever. also, I fucked up continuity, so if anyone actually notices, yeah, I'm aware of it.

On New Year's Day -- or, to be technical, New Year's afternoon -- Joey wakes up with a pounding headache and the taste of Justin on his lips. It takes a long hot shower and two strong cups of coffee before he can begin to string together the dim memories of the night before; Lance's party was insane, huge, more people packed into his house than Joey thought the place could possibly hold. Justin appeared suddenly at his side as the seconds began to tick down to midnight, in the middle of the jammed living room, a grin on his face; Joey had taken him up on the inviting look on his eyes and bent to meet his willing mouth as everyone else cried out the last seconds before 2000 ended and 2001 began.

In his bright kitchen, swallowing aspirin and staring at the fridge door with magnets tacking up papers and reminders of appointments, Joey thinks that he must have been really fucking drunk to kiss Justin, New Year's or not. Not to mention Justin's own, doubtless sky-high level of wastedness. Well, neither of them will bring it up again, he's sure, and that'll be the end of it, Joey thinks. It was just a lively, drunk moment. Justin will feel the same, sure he will.

* * *

They have studio time and public appearances all through January, and New Year's is never brought up once except when Lance mutters about his cleaning bill, so as far as Joey's concerned, it never happened. He's put it completely out of his mind by the time his birthday rolls around. Chris has been plotting for weeks, he knows -- both for this and Justin's party, since it's only three days later -- and it's every bit as fun as he could have hoped. Kelly only makes a brief appearance early in the festivities, since her pregnancy is leaving her tired and listless most days, and that's the only sour note: Joey hates that she can't stay and enjoy herself. But she assures him that she's fine, tells him to have fun, kisses him on the cheek and leaves; and he feels better after, especially when Justin gets him to help throw JC into the pool.

He's in the linen closet, getting towels for JC and the three people who followed him into the water, when he feels someone push him all the way into the closet, against the shelves of towels and sheets. As he's yelping a protest, the doors close on him, shutting him in darkness, and a hot, lean body presses to his.

"What the fuck," he says, turning himself around awkwardly in the confined space. The closet is dark, but the slats in the doors let in a little light, and he can just see enough -- feel enough, too, his hands seeming to recognize the lean hips they encounter -- to realize that it's Justin.

"Shh," Justin breathes, giggly-drunk, and pushes against Joey. An instant arousal pulses through Joey; he's hard in a second, and he gasps, finds Justin's mouth on instinct alone. It's hot and wet and beery, flavored with the margaritas Justin's been drinking. The raspy push of their tongues drives Joey crazy with want.

He tries to secure a firmer grip on Justin, but Justin is too slippery, gives a liquid laugh and slides away from Joey. "Happy birthday," he murmurs, his voice sensual, then yanks the doors open with fingers hooked in the slats and is gone while Joey's still dazzled by the sudden return of light.

Joey swears, grabs towels, and stomps down the hall, refusing to think about the irony of their location.

* * *

After that, he's almost half out of his mind with anticipation of Justin's birthday. He's going to get the little shit back, just needs to find the right moment.

There's more drunkenness, not surprising under the circumstances, and Britney's there, too; Joey feels an odd pang of jealousy when he sees them dancing together in the middle of a cheering crowd. But when Justin disappears up the stairs, alone, Joey grins and excuses himself from his conversation with Lance.

Justin's coming out of the bathroom adjoining his bedroom when he sees Joey leaning casually against the low dresser. Behind him, the bedroom door is prudently closed.

"Joe?" Justin says, an eyebrow raised, something smoldering already in his eyes. Joey's smile widens as he crosses the distance between them in two steps, hands going familiarly, automatically, to Justin's waist; Justin breathes in sharply and then they're kissing, like the three days between their last make-out session and now were nothing but a moment's pause.

Joey hasn't loved kissing this much since he was fourteen and just learning how hot it could be to have your tongue in someone else's mouth. Now that it's Justin -- six feet, two inches of pure lithe muscle writhing against him -- Joey thinks he's going to explode from the excitement of it (in more ways than one).

Justin's pulling and pushing at him, hands under his shirt. Joey doesn't realize they've moved until his calves hit the edge of the bed and he's falling, sprawling on the mattress, breath knocked out of him in a sudden laugh. He's raw and horny and when Justin crawls up over him, licking and nibbling and biting at his neck, Joey practically comes in his pants.

Justin pushes up, though, braced on his arms over Joey, and Joey knows the moment is over. He grins and licks his swollen lips, knows he'll look like he was making out with someone, doesn't care, murmurs "Happy birthday" in a voice gone rough with need.

Justin shivers against him, delicately, making Joey squirm; but then he pushes up, albeit reluctantly, and heads for the door. He pauses there, glances back at Joey, his eyes still hot, and he gives Joey a little rueful smile. "You OK?"

"Yeah," Joey gasps with a little laugh. "Just -- gonna think about baseball or something."

Justin grins and pulls the door shut behind him, and as soon as it snicks shut, Joey undoes his jeans.

* * *

Thinking about it later, Joey will realize that he shouldn't have been surprised, but he is anyway when Justin appears on his doorstep, early on the morning of February 14th.

"I, uh," Justin says, scuffing his foot on the doormat. An eyebrow raised, Joey steps back to let him in. This will be where they have the awkward conversation, he thinks, remembering the sight of Justin dancing with Britney at his birthday party. Justin pushes the door shut and in the same move turns, pressing Joey to it with the force of his own body. His mouth finds Joey's neck, and the hot damp wetness of his tongue makes Joey's head fall back against the door with a dull thump.

 _So much for awkward conversation_ , Joey thinks dimly, because Justin is rucking up his shirt in front, pulling down on his sweatpants and sinking to his knees all at once. Joey tries to speak, but all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled moan, and his hands sink into the soft profusion of curls, letting them corkscrew silkily around his fingers. Justin's mouth is lush, sweet, more than he ever dreamed it could be. When his lips close around Joey's cock, Joey forgets everything else, his world shrinking to the narrow focus of that perfect rough tongue, demanding lips, a suction so intense that he can't even remember how to breathe for a moment.

It all comes back with a loud gasp, though, and then Joey's babbling, muttering praise for Justin's fucking amazing mouth, his clever hands that seem to touch Joey everywhere, setting him on fire with each touch, every caress that passes over his quivering skin, tense thighs, his testicles and behind, and when those long sensitive fingers find the cleft in his buttocks and tease at his opening, that's all it takes for Joey to arch back and push up, a loud wordless cry as his climax seems to pour out of him.

He's still slumped against the door when Justin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and rises smoothly to his feet, lazy and lanky, reminding Joey of nothing more than a cat having just eaten its fill of cream. That thought makes him laugh weakly, and Justin presses in for a bitter kiss while Joey's still catching his breath.

"Jesus," Joey breathes.

"Not quite," and Justin laughs lowly, then drops his forehead to Joey's shoulder and draws in a breath as if he's trying to memorize Joey's scent. Joey can't help himself from touching Justin, then, one arm firm around his waist and the other higher, so that he can cup Justin's warm nape in his hand.

"I have to go," Justin murmurs after a minute.

Joey sighs. "You have to?"

"Mm. Britney." Justin seems to go a little tense in Joey's arms. Of course, Joey realizes. It's Valentine's Day. They have plans. He's sure he would have remembered if he and Kelly were still an item, but they agreed a few months back that they wouldn't stay together just for the baby's sake, not when they were both unhappy. Joey wonders what Britney would say if she knew that only hours earlier, Justin had been down on his knees in Joey's foyer. Not that he'd say anything.

"OK," Joey finally manages to say, and kisses Justin's ear before reluctantly releasing him. "Sure I can't..?"

Justin slips back with a little wry grin, tugging Joey with him so that he can open the door. "Uh, President's Day," he says: _so there's a pattern to this now_ , Joey thinks. They don't embrace again before Justin leaves, but there's a smile, a last look that speaks volumes, and then the door closes on the strangely intimate connection.

* * *

On Monday they're in LA, after a late Sunday flight out, to record the track for "That's the Way Love Goes" and then shoot the video right afterwards. They've already got the vocal arrangement down, so the studio time doesn't take long; a few extra takes for JC's perfectionist ears, a couple more so Justin can get just the right casual sound to his lyrics, and one for Chris, alone, in the recording booth, eyes closed, lost in one of his favorite songs. Chris never needs more than one take.

Afterwards, the engineer takes the tapes off to another room for mixing and Johnny and Melinda appear to head them out again. Joey's lounging on the couch, next to Justin, who's carefully not looking at him; when Johnny raises an eyebrow, he shakes his head a little and says, "We'll be there in a bit."

Johnny nods and closes the door behind himself, even as Justin's raising an eyebrow, starting to stand. "Dude, what--?"

Joey grins, reaching for Justin's hand, and tugs him back down to the couch. "Just relax, man, gotta talk to you." Justin looks wary, but he rearranges himself, an arm spread over the back of the couch casually, as Joey gets up and locks the door of the booth. Then he comes back, but instead of flopping down, he kneels in front of Justin, who swallows, suddenly looking paler than he did a moment ago.

"What?" he says, licking his lips. Joey grins and rests his hands on Justin's knees.

"Just relax," Joey says again, reaching for the buckle of Justin's belt.

Justin doesn't exactly relax, but what he does do is respond beautifully, shaking and gripping Joey's hair in his hands and thrusting his hips in tiny barely-controlled motions, every line of his body crying out his need, his exquisite pleasure. At the end of it, he arches as sweetly as a bow, and Joey's mouth feels bruised but deliciously so. When he sinks down to the couch again, he reaches for Joey. Joey stands, instead, shaking his head, looking down at Justin, still flushed and panting.

"They're waiting for us," he says, with just a little hint of a satisfied smile.

* * *

They have sex for the first time on the Fourth of July. Joey's supposed to be at Kelly's to have barbecue with her family and Briahna, but when Justin calls him early that morning and asks him to come over, he breaks a couple of laws getting there.

According to the note taped to the sleek metal railing of the stairs, Justin is up in his room, so Joey jogs up, taking two at a time in his hurry. Then down the wide hallway to the master bedroom, and there he freezes.

Justin is spread out on his bed, entirely naked. The dark blue sheets -- satin, Joey thinks dully -- only enhance the golden glow of his skin, and lust overtakes Joey's brain in a sudden, unstoppable rush. It takes him about two seconds to strip his shirt off, kick his shoes away and stumble to the bed, but they're the longest two seconds of his life.

By now, he's used to Justin, comfortable with him, knows his responses and his sweet spots, and it's enjoyable to take his time and move slowly down, over smooth sweet skin, light hair sprung around a rose nipple, and the moans Justin makes send unearthly thrills through him. When he laves a path over Justin's belly, nuzzles into rough pubic hair, Justin tugs urgently on his hair, and Joey looks up to meet eyes as darkened and needy as his own.

"Please," Justin says, voice roughened with desire. "Want you to fuck me, Joe."

How can he say no to that request? He surges up to meet Justin's mouth, the kiss desperate and messy, hot and sweet, and then Justin breathes, "There's stuff in, in the bathroom."

"Got it." Joey gets up, though it's hell itself to tear himself away from Justin, and jogs naked into the bathroom. It only takes him a moment to find everything, for which he praises God as he hurries back.

"There you are," Justin says, reaching for Joey. Joey goes, blindly.

Nothing they've done before quite compares to this. It's as if every touch, every kiss, is heightened by the awareness that in a few moments, Joey's going to be inside Justin, connected to him in brand new ways. He pushes Justin's thigh up and kisses behind his knee as the first slick finger finds its way into the dark secret depths of Justin's body. Justin's moan is so rich that Joey thinks he could come, hearing that alone. He manages the second finger, two twined and pressing deep, before Justin finally gasps that he's ready and his fingers dig into Joey's shoulder. Joey barely remembers to get the condom on, fingers slippery with lube and sweat, and then Justin's pulling him down.

It takes him a moment, a hand between them to guide his cock into place, and the first shock of pleasure when the head pushes in makes him freeze and draw in a deep breath. Then he pushes again, little thrusts to work his way in gradually, and Justin mewls, ankles locked behind Joey's back. "Come on, come _on_ ," he chants.

"Hold your horses," Joey breathes, sweat stinging his eyes, but he moves again; it's easier with each passing moment, Justin opening up around him like nothing he's felt in his life. He moves back, in again, a little further each time, his world reduced to Justin beneath him, so tight around him, hands splayed on his shoulders and breath rasping from a wide-open mouth. It might last forever or it might just be a moment when he's sunk in, pressed together so tightly that not a breath of air flows between them.

"That's it," Justin gasps, fingers cutting into Joey's back. It's all the incentive he needs to pull back and shove again, hard, making both of them shout in the same breath. The rhythm comes easily after that, Justin raking his fingers down Joey's spine, Joey rearing back and pushing in hard again, again, until there's nothing but the dance, the motion, the way they move together as one. It's like they just fit, as if they were made for this, Joey thinks blearily: he was made to slide into Justin, and Justin was made to take him so deep, so smooth.

He gropes between their slick bellies and finds Justin's cock, hot and stiff against his stomach, and when his fist closes on it, Justin cries out again in a voice gone raspy, thready, desperate. He's barely stroked a few times before Justin arches beneath him. His shudders work through and into Joey, and by the time his orgasm hits, Joey's coming, too, lost in Justin and the intensity of his release.

He pulls out, after, and falls to his back, sucking in air. After a moment, Justin's hand takes his, and he rolls his head, looking over with a weak smile. Justin looks as drained, as exhausted, and as sated as Joey himself feels. "God," he says.

"Yeah," Joey grins.

"My turn next."

Joey can't help but laugh. "If my legs work."

* * *

He thinks about saying something in September. They've spent almost all of August apart, because there weren't any holidays -- they mutually agreed, though, that JC's birthday counted -- and by Labor Day Joey is feeling the need keenly; they practically fall on each other, in fact, the moment Justin arrives at Joey's. Too, Joey realizes, there's the fact that he hasn't sought out any other companionship, male or female, and that right there is enough to give him pause -- especially since they'd been on tour and it was very unlike him to go without after a show. But somehow he never finds the right moment, even afterwards when they're laying together, Justin breathing hard against him, or in the shower, or first thing in the morning when they're just waking up and Justin's skin glows in the early sunlight.

And so it goes on, Columbus Day and Halloween, October bleeding into November, and then with a shock Joey realizes it's almost the end of the year. On one level he's known, of course, because of Thanksgiving and then buying Christmas gifts for everyone and arranging the gigantic Christmas party he always throws, but the significance nearly escapes him until two days before.

It's Chris who makes him aware of it, too, mentioning it in passing -- so casually that Joey might have mistaken it for less, but for the fact that he knows Chris. They have Briahna at the park, under the watch of two bored bodyguards, and Chris is swinging her, pushing as she chants, "Far! Far!"

"So what's up with you and J?" he asks.

Joey glances up from his seat on the next swing. "What do you mean?"

"You two. You still going out?"

He manages a look of mingled surprise and a snort of disbelief in one, shaking his head for emphasis. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Chris smiles a little. "Yeah, right."

"Seriously." Joey kicks against the muddy ground. "Nothing's going on between us."

"Look," and Chris's voice is gentler now. "I've seen you guys, the way you look at each other when you think no one's looking. You don't have to lie to me."

Joey swallows. He thought they'd managed to keep it pretty low-key. Still, it's a relief to be able to look up and say, "It's been going on since Lance's New Year's party. He -- we kissed, and. Well."

Chris catches Briahna the next time she swings back, tickling her to make her crow with laughter. He plucks her from the seat, and as they walk back to the car, he says, "You should do something. This year."

"Maybe," Joey murmurs.

* * *

Two days later, they're all at Lance's again, in the middle of another raging party. Joey knows most everyone there, and he's assaulted the moment he arrives, grabbed by one person and another to babble something, whether it's congratulations about Briahna or the movie or the upcoming tour. He makes his way distractedly through the crowd, one purpose on his mind: one purpose that is, of course, completely impossible to find now.

He's starting to fear that Justin passed on the party, stayed in LA or something, when he finally sees him out by the pool, alone on the far side by the railing that overlooks the Gulf. There are other small groups out there, chatting and drinking, but Justin's by himself. Joey checks his watch and smiles. Two minutes.

Justin glances up when he steps up to the railing, smiles a little and raises his cup of beer. "Hey."

"Hey," Joey nods back, raising his own cup, and he follows Justin's gaze back out to the horizon. "Pretty night, huh?"

Justin snorts. It makes Joey smile again. "Another New Year," he says quietly.

"Yeah." Joey finishes his beer and puts the cup down. "It makes you think, doesn't it?"

Justin agrees in a guarded tone. "Lot of stuff coming up."

"Lot of stuff this year, too." Joey thinks about the plans for the future, the tour, the solo album Justin's made tentative hints about wanting to do. Then his mind travels back in time, to a year ago and what started then. He's glad of it, glad it happened. He glances down at his watch again. One minute, and he can hear people calling out from inside. Getting close. He looks at Justin again, then turns so he can face him and draws Justin's wrist away from the railing.

"What?" Justin looks down at the hand on his arm, then up into Joey's eyes. "Joey?"

 _Twenty_ , comes the shout from inside.

"I love you," Joey says. "And, uh, I want to be with you. For real. This year, and, uh--"

 _Fifteen_!

Justin's eyebrows go up, then down again, his eyes narrowing. "Did Chris put you up to this?"

"No. Well, yes, but I mean, I'm serious. Justin, this isn't just about sex anymore. It hasn't been for a while, you gotta admit that."

 _Ten_!

Justin looks down, then away, over the ocean again. "I don't know, Joey," he says, and it's the last thing Joey expected, the last thing he wanted to hear.

"It's not like we'd stop having sex," Joey says desperately. "And we're practically in a relationship already. It's--"

 _Five_!

"We'd be together. For real?" Justin glances back, his eyes unreadable.

 _Four_!

"For real." Joey gulps. "We'll tell the others and everything."

 _Three_!

Justin tilts his head with a considering look, then smiles. "OK."

 _Two_!

"OK?" Joey can't stop the smile from spreading over his own face, larger and brighter than he thought possible.

 _One_!

Justin's hands cup Joey's face, and his smile is a mirror of Joey's as he leans in for a sealing kiss. "OK."


End file.
